She doesn’t.
I don’t think. I grab her and pull.
She collides with me just as the gelding crashes down where she’d been standing. The impact knocks the breath from her, but I keep her upright, arm locked around her without thinking.
“You trying to get yourself killed?” I ask.
Her gaze snaps to mine. “I didn’t know?—”
“That much is obvious.”
I move her back another step, putting space between her and the stall before letting go.
Too slow.
I notice things I shouldn’t.
Sunlight in her auburn hair. The flush in her cheeks. The way her breath catches like she’s still half in the moment.
She looks… out of place. A white crochet shawl over her shoulders, rings on nearly every finger. Too-dark polish on neat, manicured nails.
Open. Unguarded. Eyes blue-green sapphires framed by thick fringes of dark lashes.
I drop her wrist.
“You can’t walk in here like that.”
Her tongue darts out—too pink, too inviting—to wet her bottom lip. “I was looking for Levi.”
“That’s me.”
Relief flickers across her face. Like she just found what she came for.
I don’t like that.
“Good,” she says. “Because I think I’m supposed to be working with you.”
“No.”
She blinks. “No?”
“No.”
“Carl and Lucinda said?—”
I shake my head once. “I work alone.” It comes out all gravel, uncompromising.
Buddy stomps behind me, punctuating the statement.
The woman shifts back on her heels, glancing past me. She takes in the horse, the tension, the risk. I take in her boots. Hand-tooled, fancy enough for a country wedding, brand-new enough to still squeak. Same with her hat—a fashion statement, not a Stetson.
Everything about her look screamsnotfor this stable.Notfor me.
Then she looks back at me and smiles. It lands harder than it should.
Teeth too white, too straight. Until I find a crooked one, third from the right, curved in a little more than the rest, like the orthodontist blinked too long.
I let out a slow sigh, shoulders relaxing a tick.
